


February: Blood As Red As Roses

by SilentStudies



Series: Twelve Months of Love [2]
Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Historical Fantasy, I'm too tired to tag, Lucid Dreaming, M/M, Mild Gore, Roses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 11:10:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18799171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentStudies/pseuds/SilentStudies
Summary: Namjoon is an outcast after an incident that changes his life. He became comfortable with the persona people project on him; he became assured by the love of his roses. One night he has a dream that changes everything.





	February: Blood As Red As Roses

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, it's almost one o'clock in the morning, and I haven't slept properly in days. This is most definitely based off of a dream I had so it might flow weirdly, but I'm too tired to care. Thank you for clicking on my fic. I hope you enjoy.

It's not a new thing to be ignored. In fact, Namjoon has learned to expect it; he thrives on being ignored now. Only the nice, old lady at the one shop in the food market acknowledges him nowadays. Everyone else treats him as an outcast.

Namjoon carries his basket of fruits and vegetables to his home. Underground in a secret tunnel that only he knows about. After the whole Incident, he's learned that he doesn't get along well with others. When he enters his home, the smell of roses greets him. He sighs with a happy little breath and inhales deeply. His roses grow under a lamp, all over his abode. The vines overtake the walls that don't have his drawings on it. His diary sits on a wooden desk he painstakingly made himself, along with several leather books full of illustrations of roses. The daily logging of all the roses in his room, ones he grows inside and out. He has roses everywhere. It takes most of the day logging progression in the growth of the roses aside from eating and sleeping. His obsession is his life. Roses are his life now.

He only grows one color of roses, red. Red roses that vary in shade, the most beautiful of the colors he could steal the seeds of from the abandoned mansion. It's hard to be in town, so he only goes in the early morning, or late at night. Time is precious, as are his dreams and roses. 

There's an abandoned clockwork tower fifteen miles out of town. The tunnel he has made his home in leads straight to it. There, he grows his roses. He has also started to grow some vegetables in wooden baskets full of dirt. It's hard to grow in the desert, but he manages with the more frequent rainfall since it's now February. The weather warms up every day as it gets closer to spring, or perhaps it's already spring, and the official date is off because his flowers and vegetables are flourishing in life. Because of his garden, his visits to the town are less frequent. But he does go to town for meat and spices. There's only so much he can cook on his poor excuse of a stove and oven. 

Namjoon also grows herbs like parsley and glove. The more he grows in his little abandoned tower, the less money he has to spend in the funds he gets from selling his drawings. The most money comes from the paintings. He's an expert artist from the sketches he does every day of his roses, the easel and canvas sit in front of his garden, the paint and canvases he receives are from the people who pay him. He's become quite an underground artist, his works are highly sought after. The courier delivers him everything during the early morning. Namjoon doesn't allow them to see where he lives, he keeps that secret to himself. Luckily, the courier's office is close to the entrance to his home, so he doesn't have to walk far with the paints and canvases, or worry about being robbed of the gold he receives in heavy envelopes. Namjoon is saving his money for a rainy day, one he feels that is coming soon.

Tonight Namjoon prepares for bed at midnight. Although the walk to the clockwork tower is far, he's used to it. But the time it takes for him to walk seven and a half miles is long and he snacks on his pouch of dried fruits from his garden as he walks both ways. His home is the same distance to town, but he leaves his canvases in a separate room closer to town to be carried another day. The names of his clients written in a messy scrawl on the back of the canvases and envelopes of requests sit on his desk or a small box in the clockwork tower. Namjoon sighs and breathes the scent of his precious roses in deeply. He changes to his nightgown, the softest silk he could find in the tailor's shop bright and early one Saturday morning. He washes his face in his small sink and scrubs his teeth with a toothbrush and gently combs his hair. He'll take a shower tomorrow, he's tired from the long walk. 

As he walks barefoot to his bed, one of his precious drawings crunch under his foot. Namjoon curses under his breath and picks the drawing up. The paper wasn't crinkled too much, but he feels a stinging in his foot. When he lifts it, he sees he has a paper cut. Under the candlelight, he sees a single drop of blood staining the paper. Namjoon supposes it's fine, it's like one of the shades of his precious roses. He sets it on his bedside table, grabs his night mask and slides it over his head. He lays down on his comfy bed and blows out the candle. For some reason, tonight felt like a bad night to be left in the dark, but Namjoon had no other choice, he didn't want to burn his room, sketches, or roses by any means. They mean too much to him for him to take the risk to leave his candle on in the darkness. The lanterns light up from his desk in the main room anyway, he's not left in total darkness.

Namjoon slides the mask over his eyes and makes himself comfortable in his silken sheets, a warm comforter he snuggles into along with the only plush toy remaining from his childhood, a sock rabbit that has been carefully taken care of through the years. He hugs his stuffed toy and falls asleep fitfully. 

His dream starts in chaos. All his pent up anger and sadness of being ignored takes control of his mind. His heart feels so painful. In his dream, Namjoon clutches his chest. He feels something moist on his fingers, and when he peels his arm away, the sticky red of blood sticks to his skin. He feels as if his soul is being split in half. One half is the anger, the other is his happiness. The sadness of abandonment and the feeling of absolute freedom fighting each other. He feels so dizzy, all his emotions are threadbare. His skin turns black, and the blood is fluorescent on his fingers and arm. Then the black is stripped off his skin, and the dream ends as he faces someone unfamiliar and yet so close to his soul.

**Author's Note:**

> I am now three months behind in this series. I was supposed to focus on school, but I had to write something because this was my project I've been planning for a while, so I decided to base it off my dream just like I did for Dreaming Of You. Thank you for reading, I will definitely be writing more of this fic, and I'll edit it to make it longer when I have more energy and more sleep. Please comment or leave kudos if you enjoyed. I'm going to pass out now.


End file.
